… I became psychotically depressed…
I stood by the window of my parent house which was burning. The flames grew thick, all I could hear was voices, ‘don’t move’ , ‘help is coming’ , ‘stay there princess’. The voices got louder and louder. I stared at the ground through the flames, and moved…
“… let’s take charge of our mind. We are not going to let our depression control another second of our life. We are fighters and there is hope for us all, Thank you. “
I climbed down from the podium and entered the car. I couldn’t believe I just made a speech on depression. Who could believe I actually had a past….
I have always been a happy soul. Adding colours to life. Till I was involved in a ghastly car accident that took my parents away sparing me and leaving a scar on my left cheek. I thought I could get over it, I was actually trying.
Then he came, tall, huge and thick. He is forced to shop in tall, creepy stores and chooses, long, dark coats. His face is always hidden, not by a hood, but as if his features cannot reflect light, merely a silhouette. He followed me everywhere and every day.
I couldn’t get a restraining order from this man. I cannot run away from him. I just couldn’t get away. Because, this man is not truly a man, but a manifestation of darkness that started to live in me. A black shadow that sucks the light and warmth of everything around me. This man is me.
He takes the taste of the delicious cookies I once loved. Even when I laugh, he hides behind that laughter. I could escape everything else not just him. I could not escape from him. He became the conclusion of death. I resorted to actual suicide. The evening of the fire incident, he was there. He mocked me so bad, that I felt if I could just jump down he would follow and die.
But he didn’t,I was rushed to the hospital due to the fact I broke my arm. Grandma had to travel to come see me in the hospital. Terror ceased me, I could not walk, nor talk, I moved around on wheel chair.A person suffering from total stroke was better than me. The only thing I could do too well was scream due to the nightmares I had.
Everyone casted me out. Only Grandma could understand me. I travelled back with Grandma, she became my psychologist. Antidepressant drugs were prescribed to me. The next three months, I went attended Cognitive behavioural therapy and interpersonal psychotherapy.
Grandma kept severe watch on me, followed me see my counsellor. I felt open with her, we had series of discussion and gradually he left, I could feel his presence slowly diminishing.I could identify colors,and
feel the sunlight which brighten up the day and my soul, I could feel myself.
… A knock came to the door, Caleb entered “sir, are you still going in for the seminar or should we postpone it”. I replied ‘no way, of course we shall start in the next five minutes’. Caleb left.
I closed the diary of my great grandmother. All I needed was in her diary.if she could get over her depression and regain her identity, every other person can. I walked out to the waiting assembly. This is now the family business.